Healing Hands
by subseeker
Summary: Dean is sick and Roman takes care of him. Not as bad as the summary, so give it a try ;) Ambreigns one-shot, slash (no smut)


Now, here we have a little Ambreigns-something.

This one is NOT a sequel to Alpha. It stands alone and the mood in this one is completely different to the one in Alpha :3

Well, hope you guys like it nevertheless ;)

(Please don't mind typos and stuff too much, it's late. Gonna do corrections tomorrow...)

Have fun!

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The first thing Dean became aware of as he emerged from the black depths of sleep was a scratching in his throat and his still muzzy mind suggested to heartily cough it away. Soon after he was awake enough to curse himself, because the coughing had made the scratching become a fully grown burning pain.

With being awake came not only his aching throat, but also a running nose, the feeling as if someone had stuffed his sinuses with thick cotton-wool and his eyes… yeah, his eyes… moving his eyes hurt. Opening his eyes hurt. _Not_ opening his eyes hurt. And some of the wool from his sinuses must have gotten into his ears, because there was an uncomfortable pressure on them and he didn't hear very good. Oh, and did he mention that his ears hurt, too? And the teeth of his upper jaw? Too? His muscles, his joints?

Even his bloody hair?

_Fuck that shit…_

He groaned, realized that groaning was a shitty idea, settled for a pitiful moan instead and it was almost funny how it sounded miles away yet as if the tiny sound was right in his head at the same time. Maybe because a part of the moan hadn't found its way out while the rest had actually found a way to escape his aching, wool-stuffed head to flee as far as possible from the heap of sickness he was. And for once the being sick didn't refer to the state of his mind.

The light which was falling through the window was _loud_ and it successfully added a headache. A good idea would have been to pull the duvet over his head, but moving on the other hand wasn't a much attractive thing to do now.

And wonderful, there was sickness, too.

Compared to moving his arm, closing his eyes again was the less painful option. He could try to keep his eyes shut and with a bit of luck he would fall asleep again. But just as he wanted to actually close his eyes, his phone piped up and the ring tone told him that Seth was calling. He ignored it. He would need to move to answer the call.

Wait…

Nope.

The phone fell silent after a moment. Stayed silent. But also only for a moment. And then it started ringing again. And again it was Seth.

Sonofabitch.

He yelled at the phone – and Seth – to fucking stop torturing him… well, he yelled in his mind and not too loud, too. How good were the chances that Seth heard him like this? He knew that Seth called because he was worried, but all Dean wanted right now was slip back into oblivion and wake up healthy again. And how could a running nose become a full grown flu-of-death over night anyway?

What did those tumblr-girls always do? Right, took his name and made it Whatever-brose. That would make him Flu-brose now he guessed.

The phone stopped ringing again and kept silent for a promising amount of time. But hey, it was Seth after all and Seth didn't give up just like that. And maybe he had already informed Roman about the lack of response and now there was a chance that Roman would call, too. So trying to fall asleep would be of no avail anyway, because the boys sure as hell would call in the very moment he would be drifting off.

And while Dean's thoughts marched around in his aching head, his phone called him again and again it was Seth. Then silence. And again it piped up and yes, this time it was Roman's ring tone.

Roman.

Roman had brought him home after the show the last night, asking if he should stay over night but no, nooo, Dean Ambrose didn't need someone holding his hand because of a running nose and so Dean told him that he didn't need a nurse around. Brilliant idea. He could have the big man here now, taking care of the pitiable ball of pain and sickness he was.

It was almost funny how close they had become lately. Close as in… different… close. The three of them were still best friends. Nothing had changed between them concerning that. They were still hanging out and stuff, but due to the storyline Seth travelled and roomed on his own now. And that in turn meant that Dean had Roman a lot of time all to himself. And somehow…

… well, somehow it had changed the relationship between him and Roman. All the time they've had that kind of pushing, poking, itching the other's ego kind of relationship. That _you won't die so get your ass up_ brotherly relationship. The one where you get into each others face at times, where you can explode but you know that in a few hours you'll be sitting somewhere, having a drink and laugh together again. Roman's touchy-feely side had been exclusively reserved for Seth all the time.

But… not anymore.

The storyline had changed it. Them. It started out with more clingy hugs. More closeness. More touches and gazes. Different than all the time. With more… affection. And suddenly the _you're okay so get up_ had become a _c'mon let me help you_ with gentle hands checking on him, helping him.

And bit by bit he got used to this Roman. Getting used became being _comfortable_. Until he found himself craving for…

Oooh, he had to stop here. Dangerous word. Craving…

Roman…

The show last night had almost cost Dean although he would never admit aloud that he'd already been feeling _not very good_ as in _okay I'm sick_ when he stepped into the building. Leave it to Seth to notice it like a goddamn track hound. It hadn't helped Dean's condition much to find Seth and Roman standing there too close for Dean's taste with Seth gazing at Roman as if he was totally lost in the big man. And maybe he had been. Lost. In Roman. And maybe Dean was just ridiculously jealous for no reason, because there was nothing different to how they had always been acting with each other, except for the fact that there was this part in Dean that was being possessive towards Roman as of late and maybe it was making him see things which weren't there and…

… he was rambling in his mind.

When he stepped up to his friends, Seth had noticed immediately that he wasn't okay. And Roman had done that tiny worried brow-furrow-thing.

Later that night after his match, when Dean had come out of the shower that hadn't helped him feeling better, it had been Roman he found waiting in his locker room, sitting there silently with a scrutinizing gaze. And then Roman had stepped up to him and ran a hand over Dean's wet hair, cupping the back of his head and murmured that he didn't look good and that he would give him a ride home. It felt nice, this touch.

A touch that could make him feel better now.

Why hadn't he said yes when Roman wanted to stay over night?

"Yes…" Dean whispered, feeling silly as he did.

That he hadn't said yes to the big man's suggestion made him what was commonly called an idiot. Self-knowlegde is the first step to self-improvement, huh?

He sighed and the tiny sound faded off in the quietness. No more ringing. Good.

His head pounded, his throat burned, his eyes ached. His joints stung. His whole body complained. Some meds and water would have been good now. He should really get himself some and then go back to sleep to hopefully wake up feeling better. Only five meters to his bathroom. A distance that was manageable, right? Five meters. He had hurt much worse than now in the past. This was only a flu.

Somehow he managed to scoot to the edge of the mattress, sat up and… groaned, took a deep breath to fight down a surge of sickness and screwed his eyes shut. Seconds passed until he felt as close as he would get to being able to get to his feet and over to the goddamn bathroom. One step, another. And another…

Dean Ambrose, the walking sick.

After not even ten steps on the whole he felt it. A sudden thin sheen of sweat spreading over his skin as the dizziness got stronger. His heart began to pound hard. His feet and his hands began to prickle and his _teeth_, too… his breathing got quicker, shallow.

And the last thing he saw was his own outstretched hand as he tried to find a hold…

The next thing he knew was an uncomfortable cold along the whole front on his body. It took him a moment to realize that he was lying face first flat on the parquet of his bedroom and the position he was in told him that he had neatly passed out.

_FUCK that SHIT!_

Carefully he moved, attempting to turn over onto his back.

_Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow _he thought, wondering at the same time how long he'd already been lying there, because he felt like a fucking icicle what was actually strange, because despite feeling freezing cold on the outside, he felt like burning from within. He needed to get back into bed… but first he needed to close his eyes, breathe through and gather some strength.

Maybe a minute had passed when he heard the front door being opened and steps, coming closer and he wasn't sure if he should be happy or not about his unexpected visitor. The only person who had a spare key to his house at the moment was… Seth. The steps stopped not far from him.

"Go away. I'm sure you need to take your briefcase for a walk," he rasped and winced as the words bit in his throat and also because he couldn't help but push Seth away.

He knew why he was doing it. Only Seth didn't know why. His friend didn't have the tiniest idea that he was in the middle of a competition he hadn't signed up for.

Roman.

They were all friends, brothers. Only that there was this Dean in him who wanted Roman in those new ways. Claimed him. This Dean who got jealous when Seth talked to Roman, touched him. Even only gazed at him.

Silly.

Then… steps, walking up to him.

On his tongue was lying a _sorry_, but what crept over his lips was: "Fuck off, Rollins."

Note to self: apologize to Seth, big time.

Hands, touching him while a low, rumbling chuckle rained down on him: "Gee, you're so bitchy when you're sick, Ambrose. Don't worry, Seth is busy with getting his briefcase housebroken." A sigh. "Thought I should look after you since you didn't answer your phone."

Cracking his eyes open, he was greeted by a black velvet framed, handsome face with worried eyes gazing down at him. Romand tilted his head as he brought a hand up to Dean's face, feeling his temperature.

"Lying half-naked on the cold floor when you're running a fever…" the big man chided him and shook his head slightly no.

Dean shot him a glare. Or at least tried to. Roman's answer was a raised eyebrow.

"Wanted water 'n meds…" he whispered then.

"I'll get you some. But first we gotta get your sick ass back into bed. C'mon," his friend murmured and helped him to get back on his feet.

And then he was standing on shaky legs, feeling dizzy, sick and weak. It took about two seconds until his blood seemed to drop to his feet, leaving him breaking out in a sweat, causing his heart to pound hard to bring some blood _back_ to his head. He began to sway dangerously. Hands closed around his shoulders to steady him and a pair of deeply worried eyes roamed his face for a brief moment, before his world went surprisingly horizontal as Roman gathered him in his arms bridal-style.

And for the first time ever since he'd woken up today, Dean felt a wee bit better.

"You're one stubborn mule, Ambrose," Roman muttered as he carried him over to the bed and carefully placed him there. "You should have let me stay last night."

Roman perched on the mattress, pulling the duvet up to Dean's chin, before gently slipping his fingers into the damp locks, the big palm resting against a temple. And for a moment… Dean felt the pain lessen.

"How…?" Dean breathed.

"Well, I asked Seth for the spare key? And now I'm gonna get you the meds and water and then I want you to sleep, okay? And by the sound of your voice your throat must be hurting like bitch, so keep that mouth shut."

Dean gave a tiny nod and watched as his friend stood up and left the room.

Roman was really here. Dean could have asked now why it was actually Roman who was looking after him, not Seth – because usually it was Seth who went all worried mother hen over them – and Roman hadn't lost a word about why Seth hadn't come along… but honestly? Having Roman here all to himself was good and he had no intention on questioning it.

When Roman came back in, he brought a glass of water, a pack of cold meds a bowl of water along. Some pills and half a glass of water later Dean was lying there with his eyes barely open but fixed on Roman, who sat on the edge of the mattress again and gently dabbed Dean's heated face with a wet and cold cloth, before refreshing it, placing the folded cloth on his forehead.

A big hand settled on Dean's chest. Roman still looked worried, very, and Dean knew it shouldn't feel that good that he was the cause of it but it did. He _wanted_ Roman to worry about him because it meant that he got all of his friend's attention. Having him here made him feel better, just as his touched soothed his pain.

And he wondered… if those arms would be wrapped around him… maybe it would chase the flu away…?

_I shouldn't be thinking this…_

But on the other hand… why should he _not_ be thinking this…?

He didn't harm Roman with his… crush… on him, did he? As long as he was _only_ thinking about it? And, well, Roman had been with a man before, if only one single time. Roman, being all gentleman, had never said a word who it had been. Dean had a faint idea though and he also had the feeling that Cena wouldn't be happy about it.

"I'm gonna make you some chicken broth for later, okay?" Roman said hushed, smiling softly and that smile tugged a little at Dean's heart. "Huh, it's pretty weird to see you this quiet and, well, so not you. You really need to sleep now."

With that his friend wanted to get up but it was Dean's fingers taking a weak hold on his shirt that stopped him. He didn't want him to go, not yet. He felt better as long as Roman was sitting here.

"Stay," Dean rasped, trying to keep his hold on the shirt as the other man began to gently peel his hand off.

"I'm just going down to the kitchen and…"

"Stay…" he cut Roman off barely audible, because his voice was quitting its service.

The shirt slipped out of Dean's fingers, but it was replaced by a big hand. The soft smile was still there on those lush lips as his friend refreshed the cloth with his free hand and put it back on Dean's heated forehead.

"Okay. I'm gonna stay until you're asleep."

There was a glint in the grey eyes. Affection. Deep and warm. It was the image that kept Dean company when his eyes closed. There was the hand holding his own and the cool wetness on his forehead and eventually sickness and meds took their toll, pulling him down into a peaceful nothing.

X

Over the following hours Dean's world was nothing more than a peaceful and blissfully painless darkness and every now and then he came closer to the surface of conciousness for a moment. There were faint touches and Roman's voice, speaking to him hushed. There was a pleasant coolness on his face, his chest and arms in those moments. And every time he felt a little better.

He had no idea how long he had been sleeping but when he emerged from sleep and blinked into the room, it was already dark outside. The scent of chicken broth was lying in the air, actually stirring his appetite a bit, what made him realize that the sickness was gone. And he didn't ache as much as before. A good start, wasn't it? At least he didn't feel like dying anymore.

And then he heard Roman's voice, not talking to him but… Seth, the voice very quiet but getting a little louder as his friend obviously came closer to the open door of the bedroom and maybe eavesdropping on Roman wasn't okay, but curiousity got the best of him and he closed his eyes again just as Roman appeared in the doorway.

"He's still running a fever." Silence for a moment. "Yeah, he's fast asleep. Gave him some cold meds and made a soup." Silence. "Seth… I _know_ how to make chicken broth." A sigh. "I know that you're worried. Sorry." Silence. "He was a little bitchy when I found him, said you should take your briefcase for a walk. No, he didn't ask why you're not here. Told him you're busy with getting the briefcase housebroken." A brief moment of silence, then a low chuckle. "Oh yes, it _is_ funny. Some of the guys even have a bet running if you'll give that thingy a name." Again silence and Dean couldn't help the tiny smile that tugged at his lips as he imagined Seth being miffed because of them making dump briefcase jokes. But what followed then wiped that tiny smile right off his face and left him doubting his ears. "No, I didn't tell him… Seth, I… Seth. _Seth_…! I can't tell him…" Silence, then a sigh, close to being exasparated. "It's not that easy… No, it is _not_, no matter how often you tell me otherwise. What do you expect me do to, huh? Tell him, oh hey Dean, you feeling better? Good. I made you soup and by the way, I have a crush on you." Again a sigh, this time a helpless one and Dean tried hard to remember how to breathe. Roman had just admitted that he had a crush on him. _Holy fucking…_ "How can you know that? Have you asked him? No. Has he told you…? See?" Opening his eyes ever so slightly, hoping that Roman wouldn't notice it in the faint light which fell through the open door, barely cutting through the thick darkness of the room, Dean tried to make out the expression on the big man's face. And he saw something. Softness, affection. But there was also sadness and traces of longing. "I know you're worrying and I know you wanted to come over, too, so thanks for letting me take care of him alone. You know, it almost feels as if we are an item and… gosh, this is so poor…"

Roman walked away from the room again, is voice becoming nothing more than a barely audible something as he kept talking to Seth. Dean's eyes snapped wide open, fixing on the empty doorway as his still sickness-muzzy mind struggled to process what he'd just heard.

Roman had a crush on him.

Stop. Rewind. Play.

_Roman_… had a goddamn, fucking _crush_ on _him._

Blinking slowly, he wasn't sure if he should be shocked or laugh. Maybe both. And how about being happy?

That meant… he could…

It meant that there was a chance that… they…

And now he _did_ laugh, a soft but happy and relieved little laughter that turned into a rather painful coughing, but he fucking didn't care. It caused Roman to come back to the bedroom quickly, helping him to sit up and drink a bit of water.

"Feeling a bit better?" he heard his friend ask, felt a hand wipe a few damp strands of hair out of his face.

"Yeah, a little," he replied and although still raspy, his voice worked again.

"Want some soup?"

A hand, rubbing soothing circles on his back and it felt so much _better_ because he knew now that there was more behind this touch than only friendship.

"Not yet but thanks."

He sat up a bit straighter, meeting the other man's gaze and Roman was close, so close… and those precious grey orbs drew Dean in and he followed, leaning in a bit… and that longing he had seen on this handsome face was back and got stronger. Dean's poor little heart began to pound hard against his chest, maybe even hard enough for the other man to hear it. All he had to do now was put his lips on Roman's. And then… Roman pulled back, a shadow casting over his eyes.

"Uh, do you need anything?" Roman muttered and once more it was Dean's fingers taking hold of his shirt which stopped him from getting up.

"No, got everything I need," Dean said quietly, adding a cheeky little grin that… made Roman… nervous? Oh, _hellooo_! "You should grab some sleep, too, big man. C'mon, get in."

He was still feeling like shit, but at least like happy shit.

It was almost cute how Roman looked at the free space beside Dean with that tiny frown on his face. _I want this but I'm not sure if I should do it _was written all over his face. After a brief moment Roman lost against himself and he nodded, standing up and this time Dean let him. His reward for letting go of his friend was seeing Roman strip to his boxers and only a few seconds later the mattress bounced as Roman crawled under the duvet.

"Wake me if you need anything, okay?" Roman mumured as he turned onto his side, facing Dean.

"Yeah," Dean breathed, allowing his eyes to roam the handsome face and again he smiled. A smile that carried what he felt for this man and he noticed his friend's breath hitch ever so slightly, saw those eyes widen a bit. And the cute reaction made Dean's heart jump happily. "I heard you talking to Seth," he said hushed.

Several things happened. Roman stopped breathing. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but nothing passed his lips. Then he froze for a few seconds. It was almost funny, the whole scenario, and it made Dean even feel a little bit guilty for leaving the statement hanging mid-air like this. And then he began to scoot backwards, mumbling apologies, but Dean reached out, curling his fingers around the back of the thick neck, effectively stopping the retreat.

"You ain't going nowhere, Reigns," he whispered as his fingers grabbed a handful of the black mane to pull him back in.

And with a hum he gently pressed his lips to Roman's. It was only that, a touch of lips, shy and testing… A heartbeat. Two. An arm wrapped around his middle, pulling him flush against Roman's broad frame and he felt those lush lips move, felt a tongue run along his bottom lip… asking for permission and with a sigh he granted it. He curled his tongue around Roman's, receiving a rumbling moan from him as he gently sucked on it, before breaking the kiss for a blink, only to dive back in, thrusting into waiting mouth in long, slow and gentle strokes.

He felt a sweet ache grow in chest, felt a tingling running up and down his spine, felt his heart jump even more and with another hum he pressed even closer. The funny thing was that he'd always imagined their first kiss – that he never thought would happen – as rough, like out of a brawl during a training or a stupid alpha-male fight… but not soft and gentle… like this one.

This kiss maybe wasn't mind-blowing, but he was sick and Roman had been taken by surprise and it sure wasn't a _bad_ kiss. A bit clumsy maybe. But sweet.

It was Roman who broke the kiss eventually, breathing fast and shallow and confusion was heavily written on his face.

"What... you... I... why...?" Roman stammered, but his arm stayed wrapped around Dean's middle.

Dean grinned guiltily as he found traces of shock and even fear mingling into the confusion on the other man's face. There were moments when this big and tough man was far more sensitive than one would have expected. This now was such a moment. Dean had heard him talk to Seth and Roman was actually afraid of the consequences.

"You're not the only one in here who has a crush on his best friend," Dean admitted quietly.

It sunk into Roman's befuddled brain with delay. It was more than clearly visible and the very moment his friend _understood_ was as visible. It was the moment Roman closed his eyes tightly for second, before gracing Dean with eyes which were sparkling in undisguised affection and happiness and a smile that could make thousands of fangirls lose their panties in less than a blink.

And it bestowed Dean a certain warmth in his southern regions.

"Gotta make sure you'll get well soon. I want to hear you scream my name in that sexy voice of yours, Ambrose..."

More warmth...

"Uhu, so you think I'll allow you to put that monster up my ass?" he purred and reached down and between their bodies to cup Roman's cock through the thin boxers, grinning as the other man bucked into his touch. "I plan on making you beg me to fuck you through the mattress, you know?"

Raising an eybrow, Roman somehow managed to make this goddamn smile even more, well, _dangerous. _Dean knew that it wasn't a good idea to fuck now since he was still sick and aching and he wanted their first time to be so mind-blowing and thorough that they both wouldn't be able to walk normally for at least two days. He really wasn't in the condition for such a stunt now. What a shame...

Leaning in he stole another tiny kiss, tasting that forbidden sexy smile before shifting deeper to nestle against the broad chest, while his hand found a nice place on Roman's firm and round ass. And yes, he was nestling against him. He was sick after all.

"You'll probably be sick, too, tomorrow," Dean murmured as he closed his eyes, perfectly happy with having his head resting against Roman's chest while lying plastered along him from head to toe.

"Probably. We could call Seth then to look after us," Roman suggested.

"Our personal _slave_..."

"Someone's getting bitchy again?"

The low chuckle that carried those words rumbled wonderfully, even vibrated a bit through Dean.

"Hey, I'm sick. Sick people are allowed to be bitchy," Dean muttered, getting a snort in reply.

For a moment there was silence between them, one that was filled with contentment and happiness and in that silence it was the faint beating of Roman's heart that lulled him and his friend's unique and familiar scent that had a new meaning now for him. An even deeper one. It was the scent of his friend, his brother... the scent of the man who... who owned his heart.

"Can we stay like this until I fall asleep?" he mumbled, feeling the gentle hands of sleep already reach out for him again. "Feels so good. You make me feel better, Rome, you know? Healing hands..."

"Didn't know you can be such a softly, Ambrose."

"Tell anyone and I gotta kill you," he said just above a whisper.

A kiss was dropped to the top of his head. Fingers... softly brushing back and forth on his back, calming, lulling... loving...

"Nah, not gonna tell anyone. People might want a piece of you then and I'm not gonna share you," Roman said very quietly, placing another kiss on the top of Dean's head. "Sleep now..."

The last words hadn't even faded into the falling quietness when Dean already drifted off, cocooned by Roman's arms holding him tight and safe, his scent and the steady rhythm of his heart... and three little words being whispered, floating around him.

_I love you._

- End -

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